


Just Relax

by Zombiiewrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 02:51:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1534868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zombiiewrites/pseuds/Zombiiewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel gets creative with some unfamiliar sigils.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Relax

_'Just relax.'_

Those were the two words Cas had muttered before pricking Dean’s finger and gathering a few droplets of his blood into a vile.

"Do I even want to know?" Dean grunted in slight discomfort, eyes darting from the crimson pearling at his fingertip to Cas’s stoic face.

"Probably not," Castiel retorted simply, voice gruff and low with concentration. Without another word, Cas lifted Dean’s finger to his lips once the vile was sufficiently full. He pressed a light kiss to his calloused fingertip and smiled faintly.

The distinct rush of Castiel’s grace coursed through Dean’s digit, healing the skin there and replenishing the color instantly. Although it seemed brief, the simple contact had allowed Castiel to relive a memory through the unique swirls and slopes of Dean’s fingerprint—a design he had memorized during Dean’s resurrection and long after.

"You are always so willing to draw your own blood in times of desperation and war.” Cas parted his lips as Dean’s index finger traced them, “why not pleasure?”

Dean scoffed lightly, quick to dilute his ignorance by brushing it off. "I need to start locking the liquor cabinet," he joked dismissively, moving his hand to affectionately tap Cas’ cheek.

That was about two weeks ago.

Naturally, Dean had forgetten about it relatively quickly. Cas had done much stranger stuff during the time that they had been dating and in the years prior. Their relationship was anything but normal; however, Dean was in it for the long haul—leviathan, heavenly civil wars, weird blood oaths, and all.

And besides, what kind of damage could Cas do with a few drops of his blood, anyways?

"Oh my _fucking_  fuck!” Dean groaned, his voice muffled by the back of his own hand as writhed against the bedspread. His chest rose and fell in sporadic waves while shallow breaths spilled from his lips.

"What the fuck is going—" he cut himself off with yet another moan and actually arched off of the bed, hands immediately shooting to his sides to claw at the comforter beneath him.

By the time Dean had managed to compose his breathing, he was drenched in a cold sweat and trembling beneath the weight of an unseen pleasure. Each wave coursed through him with more intensity than the last, igniting every nerve simultaneously and then shutting them off one at a time until his body went limp.

Panting, Dean wrung his flannel shirt between his hands and craned his neck backwards, the veins there popping when his teeth gnashed behind closed, chapped lips. He fumbled with the buttons for a moment before growing impatient and literally ripping the shirt open. A few buttons flew and clicked against the floor as Dean sat up in his temporary relief and shrugged it off the rest of the way before roughly tugging his undershirt over his head as well. 

His hands slid down towards his belt but froze the moment his fingertips grazed the cool metal of the buckle as another surge of raw bliss rushed through him. He fell back against the bed with a huff and a guttural sound crossed between a whimper and a groan, fisting the sheets once more. 

His cock was stiff against the zipper of his jeans, straining painfully and wildly pulsating beneath the fabric until the thrill impermanently subsided. Nostrils flared and his Adam’s apple bobbed heavily as he reached down to free himself from his denim prison, hands still slick and quaking. Despite that, he managed to undo his belt buckle and push his jeans towards his knees, gradually tugging them off along with his socks without a moment to spare. 

The moment his final article of clothing hit the hardwood floor of his bedroom, he was hit with another swell of euphoria. He dropped to the mattress again, his nude body now covered in a thin film of sweat and the emerald of his eyes just rings around his blown out pupils as he tensed and squirmed in the center of his bed.

Jagged breaths and lewd curses poured from his lips once he’d gained enough sobriety to wrap his fingers around his thick shaft. He braced himself with one arm crossed behind his head and pumped himself tentatively, fighting the bubbling compulsion to speed up because  _holy shit_  did this feel good. 

"Son of a bitch," Dean whispered breathlessly, glancing down and watching his hips snap up as he fucked upwards into his fist, his cock swollen, red, and leaking excessively. His entire body contracted with every other stroke pronouncing the already defined lines of his abdomen and accentuating the tight muscles in his thighs.

Before long, the pleasure had coiled somewhere deep in his belly, now only growing steadily with the speed of his strokes. Dean alternated between thrusting and stroking and a combination of both towards the end. His heavy sac bounced against the curve of his ass with every feverish jerk until he reached his peak. 

He came with a downright filthy shout. 

He bit down on his forearm to stifle it but failed tremendously as spurts of come painted his already glistening stomach and chest. His chest heaved violently even as he started to come down, hips still weakly bucking up into his closed hand and milking his softening cock for all it was worth. He didn’t stop until the only sound leaving his mouth was a steady chant of,  _oh my god, oh my god_ and even then, his body was still shuddering with fleeting aftershocks. 

"Not quite. Close, though." Castiel’s voice penetrated Dean’s erratic breathing easily, seeping into his pores and rattling his bones in a way that made him go limp.

Cas stood there, leaning against the closed door with a smug smile on his face and a notebook in his hand.

"Two things," Dean panted and turned his cheek into the pillow, looking up at Cas with glossy eyes and an expression balanced between pure satisfaction and exhaustion. "What the fuck did you just do to me," he paused to swallow and smiled, "and when can we do it again?" 

Castiel smirked and strode over towards him, soothing a hand up one of Dean’s powerful thighs before settling on the bed beside him causing it to sink under his weight. “Your body did all the work,” Castiel informed, combing a hand through his lover’s damp hair. “I was just plucking the strings,” he added, turning the notebook around to show an unfamiliar sigil there, drawn in with a mixture of blood and holy oil. 

Dean hooked an arm around Castiel’s neck and pulled him down roughly, chuckling lowly against his lips as they kissed. “I don’t know whether to be grateful or horrified,” Dean muttered playfully, cradling the back of Cas’ head and kissing him again. 


End file.
